


dressed in white noise

by jk_rockin



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Erotic Electrostimulation, Forced Orgasm, Genital Torture, Humiliation, Hurt No Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mad Scientists, Non-Consensual Bondage, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23026249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jk_rockin/pseuds/jk_rockin
Summary: Klausreallyhated mad scientists.For whatever reason, mad scientists really liked Klaus.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 132





	dressed in white noise

**Author's Note:**

> More disgusting filth from me! What a surprise. There's the way most people do Klaus whump, and then there's the way I do it: horrible things happening to him with no relief or comfort, but plenty of sarcastic quips! Title from Goldfrapp's Strict Machine; Professor Peril from me coming up with a silly alliterative supervillain name for so frantic for the fix. If I haven't tagged for something and you wish I had, please drop a comment to let me know.
> 
> (yes, this is the artist formerly known as findyourfortunefalling.)

Klaus _really_ hated mad scientists.

For whatever reason, mad scientists really liked Klaus. Maybe it was his baby face- puberty gave him height, but left his face more or less alone- or maybe it was the nonlethal nature of his powers; he couldn't break chains with his fists like Luther, or unleash eldritch tentacles like Ben, and was a lot easier to catch than Five. Allison got kidnapped pretty regularly too, but she had a knack for getting out of gags and restraints that Klaus had never mastered.

Also, as far as Klaus knew, she didn't show up for missions stoned.

Now, for instance, Allison would already have escaped, because Professor Peril hadn't bothered with a gag. As it was, Klaus was the chump shackled by the wrists and ankles to a hospital bed in the Professor's lab, and yelling hadn't gotten him anything but a sore throat and a headache. He was examining the restraints, trying to figure out if he could get enough leverage to dislocate something and slip his hand out of one, when the door to the lab opened, and the Professor came in, followed by one of his orderlies with an instrument cart.

"Hello, Number Four," said the Professor, leaning his hip against the bed rail. His voice was the worst. Most mad scientist types had the sense of aesthetics to sound insane, or to at least cackle sometimes, but the Professor had a warm, avuncular manner, like a family doctor on a TV show. He sounded friendly, like you could trust him, even when he had you strapped to a bed. "A pity the others couldn't join us, but I'm sure we can amuse ourselves."

"What are we torturing out of me today?" said Klaus, trying his best to sound bored. He watched the orderly come up to the side of the bed and fiddle with some controls, raising the bed head so that Klaus was sitting up. "Access codes to the mansion? Dear ol' dad's top secret plans? My skin care routine?"

The Professor laughed, a big, cheerful laugh, and patted Klaus on the thigh. "No, nothing like that," he said. He nodded to the orderly, who left the room, shutting the door behind him. That ruled out a straightforward beating; Professor Peril didn't look like he'd ever thrown a punch in his life. "No, Number Four, you don't have any information I require."

Over his shoulder, Klaus got a look at the implements laid out on the cart the orderly had wheeled in. There weren't many tools on it he recognised, and none he liked the look of; in particular, he was unsettled by a black box with electrical wires jacked into it, and what looked to be an ordinary 12-inch wooden ruler. "So what's all this for?"

"Well, since you and your Academy decided to spoil my plans by destroying my beautiful machine-"

"Your death ray," Klaus supplied helpfully. "It was a death ray. You were shooting people with it."

"What it was, Number Four, was years of hard work and research, ruined by a bunch of meddling children in masks. The cost of the components alone…" The Professor's face creased, bedside manner slipping just for a moment. "Well. Since you kids saw fit to play rough with someone else's toys, I think it's only fair if I return the favour."

Klaus swallowed hard. "If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it in public," he said.

"I confess I do like to put on a bit of a show," said the Professor, chuckling again. "Making an example of you did cross my mind, but I think what I've settled on will be a more... personal example, for you and your teammates, about the consequences of crossing me."

He drew the cart closer, plucked a pair of nitrile gloves out of a box, and pulled them on, with what Klaus thought was a little too much theatrical snapping. He stepped on a foot switch underneath the table, and a video camera descended from the ceiling on a mechanical arm, red light lit up; he turned to it, and started to speak.

It was probably a pretty good villainous monologue, even by the high standards of someone who heard several a week, but Klaus couldn't retain any of it. His pulse thundered too loudly in his ears for anything else to really register, and he couldn't take his eyes off the instrument trolley to watch the Professor gesticulate, right up until the Professor picked up a pair of heavy, blunt-tipped shears, and leaned over him to begin unzipping his mission suit.

"Hey, now, buy a girl a drink first," he said, trying in vain to wriggle away.

The Professor didn't laugh, but he did smile, a terrible, pitying little smile, as he pulled the zipper all the way down to Klaus's waist. The air in the lab was cold, and the shears even colder as he slid them under Klaus's uniform and underwear. The Professor cut neatly down one inseam as far as his knee, then did the same on his other leg, and tucked the ragged fabric out of the way, leaving his crotch exposed.

Klaus was very aware of the camera, a menacing black plastic carapace with one big staring eye. He was no stranger to being filmed, and never liked it much at the best of times, but to think of what he felt now as dislike seemed inadequate. The restraints held his feet too far apart for him to close his legs, and squirming achieved nothing; he was pinned, helpless and exposed, and someone, somewhere, was watching it happen.

"Let's see," said the Professor. He picked up Klaus's limp cock between his thumb and forefinger, and peered at it with the air of a gardener encountering an unwelcome slug. "Well, I suppose that puts paid to those rumours of you kids being aliens. Everything looks perfectly standard down here." With his other hand, he prodded at Klaus's balls, seemingly heedless of Klaus struggling to get away. 

"You never know," said Klaus. He was beginning to feel lightheaded, and, to his horror, his dick was swelling under the Professor's clinical touches. Objectively he knew it didn't mean anything- his dick didn't know the owner of the hand touching it was a creepy shithead supervillain, it was just responding to stimulus- but it still made him want to shower in bleach. "We might be bodysnatchers. This could be some innocent human victim you're molesting."

If he'd hoped that might stop the Professor in his tracks, he'd have been disappointed. The Professor turned back to the instrument trolley, and picked up the wooden ruler. "Now, I do apologise for the somewhat pedestrian approach," he said, holding the implement up to the camera.

Klaus cast around for another quip- something about comparing sizes, maybe- but there wasn't time. Before he could say anything, Professor Peril's arm came up, and snapped the ruler down on his balls.

He hadn't used a lot of force. He didn't have to. The blow hit Klaus like a fist to the gut, and he twisted against the restraints, too shocked to cry out. The next smack was harder, the flat of the ruler landing directly on his left testicle; the third landed on his cock, still half-hard from the earlier groping, and that time he did make noise, a hurt animal sound without words.

The Professor clicked his tongue, and pressed his cock to his belly with his unoccupied hand. At a steady, unhurried pace, he brought the ruler down again and again, taking care not to miss an inch of his sack.

The pain felt so _big_. It felt so much bigger than it had any right to be, considering the size of the implement. He'd been hit in the balls before, and it hadn't been exactly a thrill; Diego, particularly, had a nasty habit of aiming below the belt in sparring sessions that was a significant reason Klaus worked so hard to avoid attending them. This wasn't the same as a rogue knee to the groin. Nothing softened or cushioned each impact, and the Professor gave him no time to recover from one hit before the next. He just kept on going, leaving Klaus howling in between gasps for air.

It was so hard to focus on anything beside the agony that it took a while for Klaus to even notice he was hard. It should have been impossible. Even a feint to the crotch usually left him shrivelling in his underwear, but when the blows finally stopped, his cock was hard as a rock and twitching under the Professor's palm.

"Really, Number Four," said Professor Peril, in a tone of disappointment. He set the ruler back down on the table, and gave Klaus's cock a vicious squeeze, making him squeal and claw at the bed. "I don't think you're learning anything at all."

"May-maybe it's your teaching methods," Klaus choked out. The Professor's hand was still on his dick, though he'd stopped squeezing. It didn't mean anything that it felt good. He was a teenager, and he jerked off more than anyone else in the world, probably; someone else touching him was just... new. He couldn't think about why he was hard in the first place without his brain sparking in protest. He just had to tough it out until he got rescued. He always got rescued.

"Maybe you're just a pervert," the Professor said. He still sounded so friendly, so kind. It made Klaus want to puke. "It will be quite a shock for your teammates to learn the truth about you, won't it? That you're a nasty little freak who can't control himself?"

He couldn't cry. He'd been called worse, and even if he hadn't, he couldn't cry, not with the huge beetle eye of the camera on him. Not in front of this asshole. "Try letting go of your handful of teenage hostage dick before calling anyone else a pervert," he said. When the Professor squeezed him again, harder, he couldn't stop himself making noises, but though he could feel his eyes starting to water, no tears fell, and that was something.

"It was too much to hope that a straightforward lesson would reach you. We'll have to try something more advanced," said the Professor. He didn't seem very disappointed. He turned to the table, and picked up what looked like a black rubber circle with a wire attached to one end.

"You don't have to do this," Klaus said, watching Professor Peril untangle the wire, and plug one end of it into the mysterious black box. "The others will come for me soon, and you'll go to jail. If you stop now, I don't have to tell the judge anything about this."

Another of those pitying smiles crossed the Professor's face. "Very generous. I'll take that under advisement."

He pushed Klaus's dick back down against his belly- still hard, fuck, _why_ \- and looped the rubber thing over his balls, drawing it up and tightening it until Klaus shifted in discomfort. It felt... weird, having his balls squeezed like that, especially with them already aching from the beating with the ruler. Obviously he didn't like it, it just. It felt weird, was all.

The Professor had gone back to the table, and now held two objects. The first was a white tube with a flip cap; the second was a long, thin metal rod, with a black plastic handle on one end. He put the tube down on the bed next to Klaus's leg, and, fossicking around in the lower shelf of the table, produced what looked like a wet wipe, like the ones the Academy used to take off their makeup after photo shoots. He wiped the metal rod, going back over it several times, before throwing the wipe away, and picked the tube back up. Flipping it open, he drizzled a line of clear gel down the first few inches of the rod.

"No," Klaus blurted out before he could help himself. He knew what lube was, and could think of no reason Professor Peril would need the rod to be lubricated other than with the intention of putting it somewhere Klaus really, really did not want that rod to be. "No, you can't-"

The Professor chuckled, but didn't otherwise respond. Klaus stared, unable to look away, as the Professor ran a gloved finger down the rod, spreading the lube around. He couldn't beg for mercy any more than he could cry, but god, he wanted to.

He wished, with a sudden, foolish intensity, that he was almost anyone else on the planet- that he was a regular kid who got to go to school and goof off on weekends and never had to talk to any ghosts or fight any supervillains at all. He had the same wish pretty regularly; not so much the going to school part, but the being normal thing he thought about all the time. He didn't know firsthand, but he was pretty sure most regular teenagers almost never had to face down smiling, paternal men in lab coats, about to stick steel rods in their dicks.

He kept his mouth shut, but he couldn't help but shy away when the Professor took hold of him again. He couldn't get away, he knew that, but the rod looked thicker and longer closer up, the steel gleaming under the lube. "Now, you'll want to stay still for this. We wouldn't want you to injure yourself," said the Professor.

A bitter laugh escaped Klaus's clenched teeth. "Oh, no, we wouldn't want me getting hurt," he said.

"I'm not going to harm you, Number Four." Professor Peril looked at him, face as earnest as his voice. "Harm, particularly the kind of damage you could do by wriggling around during this next lesson, is a very serious consideration." He angled Klaus's cock up, and brought the tip of the rod to the opening of Klaus's urethra. "Pain, on the other hand, I've always found to be a very efficient teacher."

It didn't actually hurt. It was almost worse that it didn't hurt. The Professor didn't push; he'd smeared a lot of lube around, and the rod slid down into Klaus's cock as inevitably as gravity, opening him up without resistance. Klaus's world narrowed down to the quarter inch of steel probing him, touching places he'd never even thought about. It felt huge, and cold, and so deeply unnatural it was a struggle to stay still, to keep quiet. The Professor was right, though. One twist in the wrong direction could damage something crucial. 

"This is called a urethral sound," said the Professor to the camera, in his lecturing voice. "Primarily intended for clearing urethral strictures. This one, of course, is a bit different to a standard sound." He took the end of a wire off the instrument trolley, and clipped it to a connector on the external end of the sound, a tiny vibration Klaus felt all the way down.

"Fairly sure I don't have any strictures, Professor," said Klaus. He didn't sound very cool or collected now. All he could think about was the sound. It occupied his entire attention span. For a second he thought it might get better, that he might have been able to regain his calm, but then the Professor lifted the sound back out, about halfway, and let it sink in again. He frowned, added another squirt of lube, and did it again; it felt like he was fucking Klaus's cockhole, and it was so- awful, obviously awful, nothing about this could possibly feel anything but awful, but it was so _much_ , his whole body was quivering, and his cock was so, so hard in the Professor's hands.

"Mmm, I would seem not," said the Professor. Seemingly satisfied, he plugged the wire into the box, and then jacked the wire leading back to the ring around Klaus's balls into an adjacent input. "In our earlier altercation, however, Number Three heard a rumour that my machine, my magnum opus, had faulty wiring, and would suffer a catastrophic power overload when deployed." The Professor waved a demonstrative hand at the box and the wires, presumably for the benefit of the camera. "It won't be quite the same, of course, as I intend this demonstration to be non-fatal, but what Number Four here is about to experience is a little taste of what my creation suffered at your hand."

Klaus couldn't think. He had no escape plan. He usually didn't need one. He'd always been rescued before any villain could do more than say creepy shit, and maybe laugh an evil laugh. Now here he was, pinned like a butterfly on a board, and there was no sign of any of the others making it to him in time. He didn't even know if they'd tried.

"I'm really looking forward to watching Spaceboy crush your ribcage," he said to the Professor, voice quaking. The Professor didn't respond. He'd finished fiddling with the dials on the black box, and now had his index finger poised over a button.

"Let's see how many quips you have in you after this," he said, and turned on the machine.

A distant, logical part of Klaus's brain reasoned that it was really a pretty small part of his body, and it didn't feel bad, not at first; sensation ricocheted between the sound and the loop around his balls, not painful but profoundly weird. It didn't feel small. Every nerve ending in his crotch was alight with a wave of tingling prickles, like static electricity somewhere very new.

The Professor adjusted a dial, and the sensation abruptly doubled. A muscle in his groin jerked, and the sound slid out, changing the shape of how the electricity moved through him, making him clench his teeth against another noise.

"Try to keep your jaw relaxed," said the Professor. "I didn't bring you a mouth guard, I'm sorry, so whether or not you crack a tooth is up to you."

Too preoccupied to argue, Klaus loosened his jaw, and tried to keep his tongue back so he couldn't bite it. The Professor smiled at him, that nauseating friendly smile, and took hold of the plastic end of the sound, nudging it back down Klaus's urethra. That feeling of penetration was even more intense with the current pulsing through him. He pursed his lips, and tried to remember all the reasons he couldn't beg him to stop.

"Of course, I'm being rather kinder to Number Four than you were to my beautiful machine," the Professor said with studied idleness. "My creation was overloaded in one massive burst, and died, sparking. I wonder how much it would take for Number Four to overload?"

The power increased again. Every level felt different- more intense, of course, and how the prickles moved through him felt different, bigger, sharper. Another flick of the machine, and the direct thrum of power changed again to a pattern that rose and fell. His whole body moved in rhythm with it, tiny helpless gyrations of his hips against the sheets. His mouth had dropped open, and a soft sound was coming out of him, desperate and uncontrollable. The pattern escalated, bigger peaks and faster drops, and he could feel tears dripping down his face, hot and salty and shameful.

"Oh, very good," said Professor Peril softly. "That's it. Don't fight it."

He had to fight it. He had to. The camera still stared from the end of the bed, watching him trying and failing to keep it together, and the Professor smiled down at him, and the feeling built and built inside him, colossal and all-consuming.

Another bump of power, going up and staying there. Oh, it hurt now, like needles of electricity raking up the inside of his cock and thrumming through his balls. He was keening, high pitched and desperate; he couldn't stop now, had no control left at all. The Professor took hold of his balls, palm warm and unforgiving in the chilly laboratory air, and with his other hand he pumped the sound in and out of Klaus's cock, fucking him with it slowly and deliberately, and that was it. Klaus came, wailing, with the sound buried all the way inside. It felt like every muscle in his body was electrified, not just his cock, and it just kept going, and going, and going, as the Professor squeezed his balls and fucked the come out of his cock with the sound, leaving messy little rivulets all over his belly.

Mercifully, he eventually blacked out.

When he came to, his balls were free and his cock was empty. Emptier than it had ever been, and he shivered again at how open he felt, how raw inside. He'd been cleaned, the scent of those wipes lingering in the air and on his face; he hadn't even noticed he'd been drooling before.

"There, now," said Professor Peril, looming into his field of vision. "Feeling better?"

"Fuck you," said Klaus. His tongue was thick and dry in his mouth.

The Professor clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "And here I thought we were making progress," he said. "Ah, well. Perhaps the next lesson will be the one that takes."

Horror and shame flooded Klaus's stomach. Even through the antiseptic, he could still smell his own come, and his muscles still ached with use. "The others are coming to rescue me," he said, wishing he sounded more certain, and less like a frightened child.

"Of course," said the Professor, patting Klaus's leg condescendingly. "Still, even if your team does manage to find us, this is a very secure facility. I'm sure we have plenty of time together before we're interrupted."

Klaus swallowed, and squeezed his eyes shut tight against the tears threatening to well up again.


End file.
